


My love for you is never in doubt

by savvyliterate



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-03
Updated: 2016-01-03
Packaged: 2018-05-11 07:09:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5617858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/savvyliterate/pseuds/savvyliterate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Doctor's physical response to River was rather a new thing. But it was old and familiar at the same time, and unlike some bow tie-wearing idiots, he could actually handle it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	My love for you is never in doubt

**Author's Note:**

> A response to criticism that River would demand sex from the Doctor and is only with him to get it on. The title comes from "Helpless" from Hamilton: The Musical.

Something was wrong.

The Doctor frowned at himself, turning this way and that in front of the full-length mirror inside the wardrobe that he’d scurried off to at the very first possibility. He smoothed a hand over his jacket and even fussed with the tie. Not fussed in the way Bow Tie did, but made sure it was neat like a normal person would. He glanced at his shoes. Nicely polished. Hair? He did _not_ need to do the roots, thank you. Breath? He exhaled on his hand, sniffed. Faintly minty. Now, he was done preening and let’s never speak of that again.

He turned the mirror back to the wall and scowled. Scowled because he was reduced to primping in a mirror while his wife slept in a bed alone without him, and what the _sodding_  hell was that all about?

There had to be something wrong with River. Maybe she bashed her head on the TARDIS floor a little harder than he thought after the space liner exploded, and that was a bit disconcerting. Something was clearly wrong, because she hadn’t made a single sexual move toward him their entire evening on the balcony. Well, evening as measured in Earth hours, only the tiniest fraction of the 24 years they were going to spend together.

Oh, River had flirted. Flirting was second nature to breathing for her, which he found both endearing and highly exasperating. But something was definitely off. When he gave her the screwdriver, a far more acceptable sonic device than that trowel, she kissed his cheeks. When he told her how long a night in Darillium was, she looked at him like he’d just given her the universe on a diamond platter. More time together, which was what they both wanted. He thought she would snog him then. That she would push him against the balcony and strip them both bare. What the sodding use was booking a private balcony if you weren’t planning on your wife getting you both naked in short order?

The Doctor scowled, then yanked the mirror back around to stare at himself once more. Maybe it wasn’t River. Maybe it was him. He arched an eyebrow, then tugged at a lock of hair. The gray hair maybe? Or it was the eyebrows. The eyebrows could be a far too intimidating. Perhaps she had a fetish for no eyebrows. Well, sod it. She would just have to deal with Scottish eyebrows for the next 24 years.

He shoved the mirror back and stalked out of the wardrobe to glare at the stairs leading to other parts of the TARDIS. Other parts like the squash courts, the ice cream parlor, the swimming pool, and the bedroom that he and River shared. The bedroom he currently wasn’t in, and he was about to rectify that.

Crossly, he marched down the corridor. Yes, his physical response to River was rather a new thing. But it was old and familiar at the same time, and unlike some bow tie-wearing idiots, he could actually handle it. He had to grudgingly concede that after their marriage, he had little issue dealing with the all-too-human desire to have sex with his wife. But only her. Only River. Despite all the flirting and the marriages, he could count on six fingers the people he actually had sex with or even wanted it with. His first wife, may she explore the Matrix with joy. Romana. Bernice. Rose. He wouldn’t speak of that time with Missy when they were at the Academy. And then River. The woman he kept locked in his hearts for thousands of years.

Who was now acting like a cybermite had consumed part of her brain, so it was a good thing he carried one of the medical scanners with him to make sure she was OK.

The Doctor was relived to see the familiar lump of River in their bed, grateful that she hadn’t done anything completely ridiculous such as use her old room from before they slept together. He crept over to her side of the bed and saw her curled on her side, curls spilled over the pillow as she snuggled into the bedding. Enough of the duvet was kicked off that he saw that instead of sexy lingerie, she wore an old dress shirt of his and ancient pyjama bottoms. She looked cozy and warm and at peace. His diamond, he thought, hearts swelling. She only dressed this way when she was around him and her parents. Her shedding her armor. She was relaxed enough around him to show him parts of her true self she would never show anyone.

Smiling fondly, he ran a hand over her curls, then held up the scanner. The low sonic-like whirl woke her. She tensed, then relaxed once more. “Sweetie,” she murmured, voice slurred with sleep, “what on earth are you doing with that thing?” 

“Making sure you didn’t knock your head too hard when the ship exploded.”

She batted the scanner away when he waved it over her again. “Of course not. Whatever makes you think that?” 

His previous self would have blushed at that point. He just leaped straight to it. “Because, you haven’t made a move on me, and I really think you’re broken.”

That woke her up the rest of the way. She pushed his arm away so she could sit up now, and she looked quite cross. “Of course I’m not broken, Doctor. Put that thing away!” When he didn’t move fast enough, River plucked the scanner out of his hands and tossed it across the room, hitting the wall and shattering into several pieces. “Now, tell me why you think I’m broken.” 

He stared mournfully at the scanner. “That was a perfectly good scanner!”

“Don’t beat about the bush!”

The Doctor whipped back around to see her furious face. Those green eyes he adored were bright with anger, and it seemed even her curls shimmered from her fury. And then he couldn’t help it. He grinned. His lips curled into the widest smile and he laughed, because they were having the silliest of rows. The first of 24 glorious years of silly, domestic rows.

“Doctor, whatever you’re on about isn’t funny at the least.”

“Yes, it is!” he hooted. “Because it’s so simple!”

River sighed. “What’s simple?”

“This.” And he swooped in to kiss her, drawing her into him as his mouth slanted over hers. He felt her tense with shock for bare milliseconds before returning the kiss, her mouth just as eager as his. Her fingers dove into his hair as he yanked up the shirt she wore so his hands could smooth over her back. It was a sensory overload he hadn’t sought in millennia, not since he wore a bow tie. Everything about touching her felt like he was standing in a wave of regeneration energy, getting to know his body all over again. And hers, he thought as their hands eagerly fought with each other’s clothes, hands instinctively moving to the places on her body that made her so aroused that the scent would linger in the air for days.

Every place she touched him felt like tiny fires licking at his skin. Her nails scraped over his nipples, causing him to moan. When her small hand closed over his cock, he very nearly lost it, and was sharply reminded that regeneration reset _everything_ – including sexual stamina. But she clearly was just as hungry as he was, nearly coming off the bed when he pressed two fingers to her clit. They fought briefly over dominance, rolling over the bed as he worked to get his cock into her before he came all over her. That would be another time, he thought wildly, as he finally wound up flat on his back and grabbing her hips as he thrust up into her. Another time, because everything was winding up so tight in him and oh _fuck_. He barely heard her scream before his vision went white.

\-----

“I didn’t think you wanted it.”

River’s voice was quiet as they lay next to each other, still trying to catch their breaths. The Doctor lifted his head, amazed he’d found the strength to do so, and gaped at her. “What sort of ridiculous statement is that?”

She lifted an eyebrow. “All that complaining about hand-holding. The little flinches when we were holding onto each other when the ship was exploding. I know you, sweetie. I know not every body of yours is comfortable with physical contact. And I’m fine with that. I love you, sweetie, not your cock.”

“Putting it crudely,” he mused, and she smirked.

To prove her wrong, the Doctor tugged River close enough to wrap his arms around her. “You’d been OK with 24 years of celibacy?” 

She shrugged, then grinned. “Well, we still have Ramone. He is pretty and not half-bad in bed.”

He pinched her hip. “Robot suit?”

“He still has a very talented tongue.”  

“And Nardole in the suit with him?” he bit out, still a bit jealous over Ramone.

River shuddered. “Let’s not even go there, sweetie, I feel _really_ good at the moment.”

He snorted.

“Besides, you haven’t checked to see what else I’ve hidden in the roundels.”

“Yes, I have." And he pinched her again, this time on the bum. "And you’re a bad, bad girl, River Song. It’s a good thing no one else decided to go looking behind those things, or they’d see your vast collection of sex toys.” 

“You mean like the dildo made from a mold of your previous self’s cock.” 

“Yes, like the dildo that … _what_?” 

River laughed gaily. “Oh, sweetie, the things you did when you got drunk. You never remembered any of it after.” 

He had vague memories of consuming vast quantities of a fruity drink because he’d been fuming over River flirting with someone not important. Then the cool feel of silicone as it molded around his erection as she did the most wicked things with his mouth to keep him hard as he insisted he wanted to do this as a gift for her, for when they couldn't be together. Instead of being embarrassed, he felt himself start to stir and wondered if River would be open to having some fun with the toy.

“Regardless,” River said, pulling him out of the increasingly lewd thoughts, “I wanted time with you. Not in bed. Just with you.” 

He ran a hand through her curls. “I traveled with someone for a long time.” 

“Clara Oswald.”

He arched an eyebrow. “You know her?”

River smiled. “I know of all of them, my love.”

The Doctor pulled River closer and knew that he would be able to tell her some day of what happened in the confession dial, and the reckless decisions he'd made. “I know we were friends, the best of friends. I remember we went on adventures. I don’t remember her face, though I think I saw it once. I don’t remember the things she said. But I remember, after I regenerated, she kept trying to hug me. Kept wanting to touch, all the time. I don’t think she understood.” 

“Tactile Sensory Overload is a legitimate issue with Time Lords,” River said quietly. “I read about it during my thesis research.”

He hugged her tighter, because she understood. Because instead of recoiling like a spring from her touch, he just wanted more of her warmth. “It got better, and I could hug her some again,” he admitted. “There were still times though, I didn’t want her touching me … but never with you. Never. There hasn’t been a time I didn’t crave your touch. That every time I was hugged or my hand held that I hadn’t wished it was your hand in mine or your arms around me.”

“But when we were in the hold of the Harmony …”

“I’m not used to being the companion,” he groused. “I do the hand-holding here.”

She rolled her eyes and poked his chest. “You really were a rubbish companion, and then there was that reaction when you pretended to see the TARDIS the first time. Snogged to death? Really, sweetie, you weren't doing it even halfway right.” 

“Shut up,” he groused.


End file.
